MOVIE REVIEW

Wetlands

Take note, Lars von Trier: This is how you do a truly funny, subversive movie about a woman’s obsession with the human body and sex.

“Wetlands,” adapted from the controversial German novel by Charlotte Roche, is narrated by 18-year-old Helen (Carla Juri), who by way of introduction informs us she’s always had a problem with hemorrhoids.

This film is not for the squeamish; even its animated opening credits take us deep into the inner workings of a pubic hair stuck to a public toilet seat.

Helen, who could give the “Trainspotting” gang a run for their money on the hygiene front, ends up in the hospital after a personal grooming session goes very, very wrong.

While recovering from proctological surgery, she reflects on her life, from her turbulent relationship with her divorced parents to her pursuit of living as filthily as possible.

There’s a sweetness here, under director David Wnendt’s punk-rock aesthetics and provocative gross-outs.

The cheerful Helen is an eternal optimist at heart, and her extremist philosophy is one of the baddest and boldest rallying cries for female body acceptance I’ve seen on film.